Wolf understands perfectly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a money clip. It only takes him a moment to liberate asleek black credit card. Before he hands it over, he peels off some paper money as well, ten crisp hundred-dollar bills.
“Let me know,” he says dryly. “Whenever you need more.”
“I will,” I promise. “You can be fucking sure of that.”
19
COLE
The message comes in as I’m driving home from Baltimore, texts on my private phone, spoofed so it looks like I sent them myself:
Cole Wolf
Perhaps you think I’m bluffing?
I don’t bluff.
My price goes up one million a day.
Next Sunday I go public.
Once I’m home, I study the words, trying to learn more about my opponent.
They write in full sentences, avoiding abbreviations, using punctuation. That would tend to indicate that they’re at least forty years old. Or they want me tothinkthey’re older thanthey are.
They’re willing to give me another week before they take next steps. They have some patience. Or they want me tothinkthey’re patient.
They think a million dollars a day is enough of a goad that I’ll do what they want. So they either don’t know I’m a billionaire, or they don’t have an accurate understanding of just how much money a billion dollars is. Or they want me to think they’re financially naive.
Fuck it.
I can’t parse the message, not without more information. There’s no reason for me to respond. I won’t give in to their demands—not without a guarantee that they can’t hurt me down the line. And the only guarantee, in this case, is exterminating them.
I lean back in my desk chair, staring at the texts through narrowed eyes. I don’t do wetwork myself. I’ve never even hired someone to take care of that type of business.
But I know I can get a referral—from Braiden Kelly, from Patrick Moran, hell, from my future father-in-law. If I want to steer clear of the mob but still get the job done, I have contacts at Diamond Freeport. Sawyer Best, another tax haven client, runs his own private army. His mercenary force can accomplish virtually any task—for a fee.
Of course, I need to identify my blackmailer first. They’ll make a mistake. Hackers always do. Except for me.
For now, I’ll watch. I’ll wait. And I’ll see what happens on Sunday. The day I’m supposed to get married.
And if my tormentor turns out to be Kate after all? If she found some way past my ability to detect lies? If she’s been digging into my past and pushing all my buttons?
I’ll make her pay.
20
SPARKCHAT
[CyberGhost joins chat]
Shaddow: Ghost!
MaskedMarauder: Nice of u to drop by
CyberGhost: FU
DarkMoney666: Come on boys
